


The Battle for Hampshire North

by JellyCow



Category: Model House of Commons
Genre: Gen, Lizards, M/M, Magic, Multi, Politics, Rebellion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22162999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JellyCow/pseuds/JellyCow
Summary: When the Liberal Democrat PPC for Hampshire North discovers his opponent hides a dark secret, he makes it his mission to take down the enemy and restore peace and harmony to the constituency.
Relationships: Akko (ARTB)/Other(s), Jelly/Dylan
Kudos: 2





	1. The Discovery that Shocked Hampshire

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry.

“...and that’s why you should vote for Jelly this election!”

The statement came with a rush of applause. Women and men alike swooning, calling to their paragon, desperately reaching out in a brazen attempt to even brush against the shadow-man. The man simply smiled, inky blackness forming a small mouth, eyes curving happily upwards. He stepped forwards, shaking the hands of his supporters with a grin and a tight grip, causing a not-insignificant number of them to faint where they stood. He continued on, beginning to head down the street to his bicycle, which he rode quickly away, neon-yellow light tracing a path through Eastrop Park.

Riding swiftly, the incredibly attractive man parked on the side of the rode as a tingling sound echoed through the deserted path he’d chosen. Reaching into his trousers, he pulled out his phone and checked his notifications. It seems that his opponent had also given a speech, and his mood soured as he watched the video. He listened to the lies spouted by the enemy, shaking his head and frowning at his device, when he saw something. Backing up the video, he squinted and upped his brightness, focusing on a spot just behind the assailant... there! He stumbled backwards in shock, the paused screen innocently glaring up at him. Hastily clambering to his feet, he looked again, and struggled to keep his composure. Behind the leg of the speaking man, a long, thick, green appendage could be seen, the tip just slipping out his trouser leg. A tail. Gasping, he rode back to his campaign office with great, even more urgently than before.

Once he arrived, he gathered his troops and showed them the video. A plucky young volunteer fainted at the discovery, but was roused by the smelling salts the office kept on hand for situations like this. One of the regular campaign volunteers let out a loud “I knew it!” whilst another began digging through the internet for more clues.

“We have a full scale invasion - Code Red!” Jelly yelled, his crew whipping into action. “Gather the squadrons! Our investigation can finally bear some fruit!” He spun and hit a button, cunningly concealed by a tray of condoms. The room began whirring, whiteboards flipping and screens flashing. Heavy duty shutters blocked all light, and the eco-friendly generator activated, disconnecting the office from any outside connections. Now that the room was sealed, he took a moment to review his investigation. A picture of a brief flash of subliminal messaging during a Conservative Party broadcast. A shaky polaroid, portraying metal parts going into a purple-coloured warehouse, and identical, synthetic-looking figures emerging from the other side. A smattering of multi-hued string, linking prominent Classical Liberals with the subliminal messaging. All these images were centred around one thing - a framed picture of the Conservative Leader, eyes flared with a strange, unearthly red shine. From the sideline, the fainting-intern rushed to Jelly’s side, a heavy-duty phone clutched in one hand. He grabbed it, nodding his thanks as she rushed back to her station.

“A spectre is haunting Hampshire...” he spoke, waiting for the coded reply.

“The spectre is Conservatism.” Came the response, and Jelly quickly brought the other up to speed. “I’ll call in Labour and the Greens. Don’t worry, Jelly, you can deal with this.”

“They’re tricking innocent people, Dylan!” Jelly responded, running a hand through his hair. “The hypnosis, the lies, the robots, the speeches... they’re all linked! How didn’t we see this before!?”

“It isn’t your fault, Jelly. We never suspected the lizards - nobody did.” Sighing, Jelly nodded to himself, before bidding his husband and Leader a fond farewell. He turned to his troops, who looked up at him, eager. One was holding a laptop, screen facing away from her, displaying both a beefy man draped in vines and an old, withered woman, clutching a wooden staff.

“We have five days before the election - we need to quell the invasion by then. Gather your allies, for we start tomorrow, in Andover. We will cut their legions off by the source. We will destroy the LPUK base of operations!”

The room erupted in cheers - the revolution against the evil lizard overlords had finally begun!


	2. The Means of Production

Deep within the confines of CCHQ, a raspy, strangled voice can be heard, echoing through the dank tunnels hidden beneath the main complex above.

“They know about ussss, milord.” Warbles a grotesque creature, fitting in with the dungeon-like scenery. It clutched a bottle labelled ‘Minority Blood’ in its dirty, long claws, and broken green scales flaked off of the creatures bald head as it paced in front of a cracked computer screen. “What sssshould we do?” A rumbling voice answered back, shaking the stone walls with its intensity and causing the creature to rapidly tremble, throwing back a gulp of the thick red liquid it held so desperately.

“We do nothing. They will not get passsst Hampsssshire North.” The creature nodded frantically in agreement, pausing in its steps to look directly into the computer screen.

“Of coursssse, your hisssslinessss, very good.” It walked to the screen, tapping a few buttons with a blunted claw, knocking a few particles of dirt from the monitor. “I will let them know.” It typed a message, sending it to an address marked only as ‘s33e@bourgienet.com’, before nodding once into the webcam. The screen turned off, and the creature was left in darkness, curling into a ball and taking deep sips of the drink. The rebellion was now known…

~~~~~~~~~~

A group of people dressed in yellow drop from the helicopter onto the rooftop of the purple warehouse beneath them, hoping their footsteps don’t make too much noise. Among them is Jelly, who gestures to the entrance and silently orders his squadron to get into the ready position. From the sides of the warehouse, vines spring from the ground, and, after much heaving, three beefy, hairy men, dressed in leaves and ferns, join the troops by the doorway. They are followed by a second group of people, dressed in red this time, all wielding a variety of sticks and staffs. Jelly nods once to all those assembled, before letting a tendril of shadow pass through the lock.

One quiet ‘click’ later, and the group is running through the first corridor, dipping into empty rooms along the way. Surprisingly, the factory appears abandoned - at least, until they reach the assembly line viewing platform. Smashing the door open, the Greens enter first, swiping their hands and entangling the purple-dressed workers in plants, before a few Labourites whip out their wands. A chorus of “Brexit Policius!” leaves the workers incredibly confused, and easy pickings for the Liberal Democrat contingent, who knock them out with orange books.

“We need to shut down the assembly line!” Calls Jelly, and his troop swarms into action, tapping away at the various consoles. After a brief moment, one of them calls out to him, and he heads over to find an opened USB socket. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a flash drive, plain except for the novelty train keychain hanging from it. Just as it clicks into place, the robots on the assembly line spin towards them, raising their arms and pointing their repulsors at our heroes.

“Hail Fried! We are Legion!” They screech, before letting loose a volley of blasts at the assembled groups. Labour springs into action, pulling out their staffs and beginning a complex spell, which freezes the blasts in air and begins merging them into one shining ball.

“Taxationius! Socialus Econominconius!” They yell, and the power of the blast is evenly distributed amongst the robots, not doing much damage but successfully diverting the attack. The Greens jump down and begin trying to smash the synthetics, but struggle due to the massive amounts of climate change denial being directed their way. Finally, Jelly calls them back, and jumps down with his own group, just as a ding is heard from the console above.

“It’s uploaded! The thing the Friedbots fear most! Transportation policy!” The bots begin twitching and screaming, running through the factory and straight into the waiting Liberal Democrats, who begin swiftly destroying their enemy with sound economic ideas, which completely decimate the inferior strategies of the heavily disorientated robots.

“The trains! The buses! Save us, Fried!” The robots scream as they collapse, leaving an empty factory in its wake. Successful, the group heads out on their way, ready to continue destroying the lizards.

“Now that the LPUK manpower is gone from Hampshire North, we can focus on the lizards themselves! But first… we need to save some old friends…”


	3. The Classical Survivors

Standing amongst the remains of the Friedbots, an imposing figure slams his fist into the ground, cracking the concrete floor with a shout of rage. He steps into a patch of light, revealing a body made primarily of cybernetic parts, wires connecting from every orifice into a giant brain attached to the back of his head. A screen lowers in front of him, and from it, a single, red, primal eye can be seen, pupil slit like a cat’s... or a lizard’s.

“You promised me that my bots would be safe, Leafy!” He snarled, spittle flying from his lips as his synthetic eye twitched.

The iris on the screen glimmered, almost seeming amused. “Sssso, they went for the LPUK firsssst... don’t worry, Fried - Mili will defeat the rebelssss, and we will, of coursssse, reimbursssse you in Buckinghamsssshire.”

“You better! I have to completely reset the Laffer Curve Protocol!”

——

The Classical Liberal HQ in Hampshire North was deserted, save for the bright blue banners hanging over the windows. Jelly shook his head in disappointment, leading his squadron into the building cautiously.

“Looks like the lizards beat us here. Spread out, but stay with a buddy - we don’t know how they’ll react, if there’s even anybody here.” The troops nodded, quickly fanning out and checking corridor after corridor. Jelly headed to the cafeteria, and made to push open the doors - somehow, though, they remained steadfastly closed. He beckoned a Labourite to his side. The boy breathed deeply, and lifted his wand.

“Leakius!” He invoked, and his eyes glowed as he began revealing the secrets behind the doors. “They are... barricaded. There are people inside... the taint hasn’t reached them... but deeper... they have people locked in the kitchen.” With a gasp, the boy came back to himself, graciously accepting the bottle of water Jelly handed to him. Stepping forward, the shadow-man knocked once, before speaking loudly through the crack in the doors.

“This is Jelly, Liberal Democrat of Hampshire North! We know about the Tories! You can let us in!” A scuffle followed from the other side of the door, before a small camera positioned outside twitched and zoomed in, seemingly verifying their identity. A few seconds later, a loud screeching was heard, and the doors opened, revealing a small group of Classical Liberal volunteers, wearing grey ribbons marked with a golden bird, clutching glaives tightly. “Thank Fried we found you before the Tories got here.”

“They were here, though.” Muttered one of the volunteers - probably their Leader, Jelly assumed - “They arrived in legions, and left with most of us. We managed to save a few of the entranced ones, but we’ve been stuck here ever since.” Jelly nodded, stepping into the room and looking around, taking in the fearful, hopeful faces around him.

“You’re safe now. Will you let me see them? We might be able to help.” The trapped volunteers looked at eachother, shrugged, and led him to the kitchen. Inside, he could hear an odd screeching noise, intermingled with yells of ‘social conservatism’ and ‘Leafy is life’. He turned back to the leader in question.

“They seem to have lost the light of Daddy Duncs. We tried filling their hearts with his power again... but the hypnotism is too strong for us.” Jelly nodded gravely, before turning to his Liberal Democrat contingent.

“I’m going to leave a couple of my guys with a few of you. Together, you should be able to stuff their minds with some good old social democracy, and they’ll be good worshipers again in no time. As for the rest of you... how about we go take out some lizards?”

The leader grinned devilishly, raising her glaive and letting out a battlecry of ‘praise the Dun!’ which was echoed by the majority of the other volunteers. The celebration was interrupted, however, when a loud hissing was heard from the doorway. There, a lizard stood, claws clicking against the floor and tail curved around its right side.

“You think you can ssssteal Hampsssshire from me? I took it from you oncssse... I will do it again!” It leaped at Jelly, shrieking loudly, venom burning through the floor as it dropped from its canines.

Jelly simply raised an arm, blasting the lizard back with a wave of shadow. “I will take this wonderful constituency back from your cold, dead claws!”


	4. The Battle for Hampshire North

Hissing, teeth slathered with acid, Mili raised its claws and brought them down, slashing through the wall of shadow that assaulted him. Leaving it no time to rest, Jelly ran forward, bringing tendrils of darkness out of his body and sharpening them into deadly spikes. The pair began a complex, fatal dance of stabbing, slashing, dodging, and weaving. All around them, the very air was alight with the sounds of battle.

The Labourites engaged the last of the Friedbots in a fierce clash of wands and repulsor blasts. Despite being heavily fragmented, the magic users slowly but surely began to push the synthetics back, relying on their superior social policy and fair economic ideals. The borgs struggled, but the ruthless assault could not be quelled with any kind of hypocrisy or religious argument, and soon, with a powerful combined blast from Akko and her two British wives, the last of the LPUK Hampshire manpower lay in a pile of rubble. The Labourites, successful, began supporting their allies in earnest, uniting for the sake of a strong front.

Meanwhile, the Greens were supporting the Classical Liberals in the defeat of their hypnotised breathren, and the ground shook beneath dramatic blade-crashes and battle-cries. Vines forced their way through the ground, reaching so high that they ripped the roof off, dropping to become sharp, thorny, painful whips, flailing among the enemy, distracting them long enough for a small group of Classical Liberals and Liberal Democrats to meet in the middle of the fighting. Together, the Liberal Alliance weaved a spell so powerful that the fabric of time began to fray at its edges.

“Nam Duncsia! Nam Rhegedia!” They screamed, forcing a portal to open in the centre of the circle they made. From it, the mystical, endlessly battle-torn realm of Cumbria could be seen. As the hypnotised enemies looked upon the wasted landscape and destroyed ground, they clutched at their heads and shut their eyes tightly, discarding their glaives in favour of trying to block out the memories of their glorious leader - but alas for them, it was in vain. Soon, the taint had been completely quelled, and the Cumbrian vision faded as the new allies picked up their weapons and charged at the lizards behind Mili, beginning the fight in earnest.

At the centre of this deadly battle, Jelly and his lizard opponent had battled to a stalemate, circling eachother carefully, waiting for the other to make the first move.

“You cannot succeed, bourgeois scum!” Called Jelly, forming swords of pure shadow and having them circle his head dangerously. “Quit now, and leave this land to those who will care for it!”

“Never!” Came the reply, along with a gob of potent acid, which was blocked by an inky-black tendril. “Thissss consssstituencsssy belongssss to the Toriessss! Itssss people are ourssss to opresssss!” The lizard through its head back in laughter, thinking of the minority groups around Hampshire, ripe for exploitation.

“Then so be it!” With that, Jelly struck, swords meeting claws in a cacaphony of chaos. Sparks flew as Mili fought with an evil glare, but the Liberal Democrat Deputy Leader did not give up. Instead, he filled his mind with his previous term - where he was elected Deputy Leader of his party, worked three cabinet jobs at once, released statements on climate change, worked to make the UK better from the Lords, and saw his first bill go to royal assent. These memories only served to make his attacks even more powerful. The rest of the fighting had to pause as all onlookers watched in awe. Finally, Jelly saw an opening in his opponent’s defences, and struck! The blade passed straight through the creature, tearing its hide and eliciting a screech of pain and shock.

“No... there’ssss sssso much more work to be done...” Muttered the evil incarnate, eyes glassy red and gazing up at nothing.

“You’re right... but the Tories will not be the ones to do it!” And with that, the blade struck deeper, blasting the lizard back with a pulse of pure socialism. The rebellion of Hampshire North was over, and won! Now, the constituency would be free, so long as the lizard hypnosis hadn’t spread too deeply before they could be stopped. Time would tell...

~~~~~~~~~~

In a place unknown, beyond the bounds of this astral plane, a giant, grotesque creature screamed in anger, slashing out at the walls that encased it, tearing chunks of rock from it. Taking several deep, guttural breaths, it collapses onto its knees.

“Hampsssshire may have been losssst...” It said mournfully, gazing longfully at the keg of minority blood in the corner. “I only hope that they’re gullible enough to vote Consssservative again...”

Well... are they?

~~~~~~~~~~

Jelly rises above his cheering volunteers and supporters. People flow from their houses, rushing to him, coming from all over the constituency. Thousands of them surround a giant lizard effigy, built from the bones and scales of the deceased bourgeois. Using his shadow powers to stand atop the crude depiction, he channels his power into his voice, and speaks.

"Hampshire North! I stand before you as a vanquisher! A vanquisher of bourgeois ideals and lizard monsters!" The crowd whoops and cheers, flailing their arms, swooning at the sheer excellency of the Liberal Democrat. "The Friedbot production plant, flattened! The evil capitalist Tory, slaughtered! The tainted Classical Liberals, liberated! It is clear that the only candidate who can protect you from these awful fates is me!"

He lifts his arm, and a Labourite steps forward, wand grasped.

"Let the flames of socialism rise once again, in revolution!"

The effigy catches quickly, causing the red, bedazzling eyes of the lizard to flicker evilly. However, they are soon engulfed by the burning fire. Jelly himself hovers above the statue, looking upon the cheering crowd.

"When you vote, Hampshire North, vote for a candidate who vows to vanquish every filthy bourgeois lizard who steps foot in this country! Thank you, and good night!"

The statue collapses, the fire reaching high to the sky. The cries of amazement from the crowd drowned out by the falling of the capitalist creature. At last, Hampshire was united, against Conservatism!


End file.
